


Our Family, Unpacked

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Culture, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/F, Family Fluff, Food, POV Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Food is more important than whatever the tabloids will ever have you think. Which is why there's no tabloids in the Rambeau-Danvers' house.And also because the three ladies living in it made it their mission to cook and eat, and talk to food as often as they could, and always as a family.Or Monica wishes her mothers would get up already.Written for the Marvel Undercover 2020, Anon Fest
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34
Collections: Marvel Undercover 2020





	Our Family, Unpacked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NachoDiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/gifts).



> Hey this is my fill for Nacho's wholesome prompt! I hope you'll like it 💙💙
> 
> **Prompt #S2, by NachoDiablo:**  
>  Characters: Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau  
>  _Prompt:Singing along to the radio while making dinner as a family_
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful B for betaing, and to our mods, Jelly, Nacho and Levi for bringing such a fun fest (we don't have enough of those in the MCU fandom!!) to us all 💕💕
> 
> [Spotify 80's Retro playlist to get in the mood and listen along!](https://open.spotify.com/album/3EbXciRF92rfHKOgRzsRgl?si=aqMOvv5TTeCHORdlvv4Zng) 😘

_Food is more important than whatever the tabloids will ever have you think. Which is why there's no tabloids in the Rambeau-Danvers' house._

_And also because the three ladies living in it made it their mission to cook and eat, and talk to food as often as they could, and always as a family. A tradition which had its roots in both the tastes of Monica's mothers, and an idea that her 1st grade teacher had had the very year Carol came back into their lives - celebrating a culture for each week of a period._

"It's Italian week, right?" Monica asked, her thumb clicking on the remote once again, looking for the right playlist of documentaries.

Carol looked up from her crocheting, with only a slight delay which she spent frowning, surely trying hard not to lose track of her count. 

"Hm, yeah, I think that's what M put down on the calendar," she nodded. "Got some movies lined up for us?" 

"Yup, _The Godfather_ ," Monica deadpanned. The way Carol's face twisted in confusion was too good to pass up. 

"You're not serious, right?" She asked, and when Monica couldn't help but giggle, she snorted herself. "You're not serious, okay."

_The Godfather_ may be a great movie, but not quite in keeping with the spirit of the cultural celebration they all had in mind with their weeks. 

Monica laughed, " _Renaissance and Florence_ , _Italy Unpacked_ by the BBC and for inspiration… _Authentic Tastes of Sardinia and Sicily_." She clicked through her playlist. 

"Well, that sounds like what we're watching tonight, your mom will be tired and you know what that means," Carol sat back in her part of the couch, letting her head fall back on the back of it. 

"That pizza is about as imaginative as tonight will be?"

"Hey, girl! Are you talking about your mom right now?" Maria's voice echoed behind them. 

Monica's neck gave a pang of pain as she turned her head around too quickly while Carol jumped in a very undignified way. 

"Nooooo."

Thank God Maria had always been ready to forgive Monica's slights with a good hug. Monica was great at hugging. So she put that talent to good use. And they had pizza while a nice voice-over guy told them all about the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

* * *

Being 10 sucked sometimes; most of the time, actually. Monica didn't like doing most of the stuff kids her age did, and even when she did, she got bored easily or demanded more complex setups than the others to remain entertained. Maria said it made her the special girl she was, and that was usually enough to bring her smile back. But then again, sometimes being 10 sucked because of the things one couldn't do. 

Like get up and make oneself breakfast because one was hungry. And One Was Very Hungry. 

M had worked all week, sometimes several shifts at once because of that promotion thing she and Carol always talked about. But what that meant come Sunday was that Monica was staring at the ceiling of her room, awake for a good two hours and slowly going nuts waiting for her moms to wake up as well. Sleeping-in was only fun if you could be the one doing the sleeping. Otherwise it was just plain boring. And she couldn't even watch the Italian cartoons she found the night before because watching anything without food in her stomach made Monica dizzy. 

So she got up. 

Determined. 

To make it stop. 

She walked slowly towards her mothers' room, and pushed the ajar door fully open. Monica didn't remember much of the time Carol hadn't been around, just that there had been one, and that she'd felt very protective of M as a result when Carol came back. But now, seeing the two women tangled in bed with Carol's hair almost in M's face made Monica smile. Her stomach rumbled, but she wasn't thinking about it anymore. 

Quiet as a mouse, Monica walked into the room, and maybe she hadn't slept enough after all - she had a habit of doing that - or maybe the room had such a powerful atmosphere of relaxation that it was taking its toll on her. No matter the reason, by the time she was done staring at how her mothers' arms slotted so easily together and how deep in sleep they looked, Monica was yawning. 

She slid behind Carol's back, rolling herself into a semi-ball with her legs drawn up and her head half-resting on the corner of Carol's pillow, half not. It didn't take her very long to forget about breakfast and instead join her parents into Morpheus' arms again. 

* * *

When Monica came to, it was slow and sluggish. She blinked a few times, rolled over onto her belly and snored a few more minutes before finally registering the fact that none of her plushies were jamming her in the ribs or arm, or head for that matter. She blinked again, and frowned before remembering where she was, and why. Only she was alone now. 

Sight often came back to her before the perception of sounds when she woke up, or so she had observed, and therefore wasn't surprised when she only caught on with the music and banging noises coming from down the hall when she sat up. 

_I get a crazy feeling that chases in my head_

_It's nothing that you do to me_

_It's nothing that you said_

_It's love in stereo_

_And when I can't let got I say_

_I'll be your baby_

Every step Monica took closer to the kitchen, her smile got bigger, her lips and cheeks almost hurting by the time she made it there. The 80s Party Radio may not be very thematic for an Italian week but it certainly was another tradition of theirs and Monica could live without starting on her opera playlist first thing in the morning if it meant seeing what she was seeing. 

She carefully sat at the kitchen table, watching as Carol gleefully spread butter and jam on a piece of _fette biscottate_ and danced to the beat of _I'll Tumble 4_ Ya and her mom did the same while she prepared them bowls of caffè latte. Neither of them saw her, nor heard her until she started to giggle openly as their rendition of the chorus, off-key and so happy it made her forget she'd been hungry for hours. 

"Well look who's here!" Maria grinned at her. 

Monica grinned right back. 

"Had a good night, bug?" Carol asked while Maria put the bowls on the table and stopped behind her to loop her arms around Monica's shoulders to kiss her temple. 

Monica squeezed her mom's wrist as she nodded, and then on an afterthought actually shook her head. 

"I woke up at 8 and you two took forever to get up, I was hungry!!" 

Both women laughed, but it wasn't mean like laughter could sometimes be, it never was in their family, so Monica smiled. 

And then smiled some more when Carol brought the plate she'd prepared and put two large pieces in Monica's special Italian ceramic plate. 

"Here you go, chief!" 

She'd made a face in the butter with the jam, a little winking thing that made Monica giggle again. Italian week was off to a good start. 


End file.
